I Am the Way Into the City of Woe
by SaturnineSunshine
Summary: CB. "It was the only thing that he could think of, his back on the ground, his face pointed towards the ceiling with his eyes clenched shut. His back arched in scalding pain, and it was the first time he had considered that something was very different."
1. Prologue: The Dark Wood of Error

**A/N**: I haven't done one of these in awhile, but I've decided to make a hiatus fic. There are going to be twelve chapters, hopefully being updated twice a week. I've written a sort of fantasy/spiritual thing before, so I'm trying to put my own spin on it.

**Summary**:

"I have killed myself for you," Chuck said. "And you know that you're the only one I would do that for.""Then hear me when I say this," Blair said darkly. "Go to hell. Because that is the only conceivable way you could ever deserve to be with me again."

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine. Charaters are GG. Inspiration comes from Dante's Inferno. If you haven't read it, it's not really necessary to the plot. Just be aware that there are nine circles of hell. That meing said, you can infer what this story is about. Thanks to **comewhatmay.x **who has been beta-ing my weird urges.

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_You held a certain fascination when you were beautiful, delicate and untouched. Now you're like one of the Arabians my father used to own. Rode hard and put away wet._

He could never stop watching her. It was never something he could control. But as she prowled and snarled at her prey, he found himself stopping in his tracks. Every single horrible thing and dark thought was a maelstrom in his mind, and he found that he wasn't able to approach her. Every single moment in his life was leading up to this moment and he couldn't move.

"She knows you're here."

Chuck drained his glass, unable to look at his best friend by his side.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Chuck finally said.

"She does."

Chuck turned and Nate sighed.

"She's always known you the best."

"Should I go ask her?" Chuck asked sullenly.

"She knows you're here," Nate said. "There's a reason she's still over there and you're just here."

Chuck placed his drink onto the bar with a clink. Nate's hand caught Chuck's arm quickly as he attempted to leave.

"Why are you holding me back?" Chuck asked darkly.

"If she wanted to talk to you, she would," Nate said.

"If she knows me so well," Chuck said, "she'll forgive me."

"Forgive you for what?" Nate questioned.

They both knew the answer.

"Everything."

"And what's changed?" Nate asked. "Why are you looking at her again?"

"I never should have stopped."

"Well maybe you were right before," Nate said. "Now you can't hurt her anymore."

_The worst thing you've ever done, the darkest thought you've ever had... I will stand by you through anything._

_And why would you do that?_

_Because I love you._

_Well that's too bad._

"Did you tell Nate to keep me away?"

"If I did," she said slowly, "it's pretty apparent that it wouldn't have worked anyway."

"Blair..."

"What do you think you're doing?" Blair asked in disgust. "Really."

His she-wolf was baring her canines at him, and he wasn't able to back away. He had forgotten that cruel smile. He had forgotten the things Blair did unwittingly that made him love her.

"Chuck Bass is speechless?" Blair laughed. "I'm shocked."

"You're the only one who understands me."

"That's not an answer."

"The darkest thought I've had-"

It wasn't the first time she had slapped him—or the first time anyone had slapped him, for that matter. But there was a fire in her predatory eyes. This would usually bode well for him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she only felt true hatred towards him.

"Do you even recognize what you've _done_ to me?" Blair demanded.

"We're just supposed to _be_," Chuck replied desperately.

"And who gave you that piece of advice?" Blair asked scornfully. "Your girlfriend? Your whores? Your business managers?"

"You're the only one who understands," he whispered.

Her eyes didn't soften, not even for a second.

"Does that really make this better?"

"Everything else doesn't matter," Chuck protested. "Because it's us. It's us, Bla-"

She hadn't even listened. She stomped across the hotel lobby, not even listening to the proclamation of love that usually made her cave to him.

_Now was that it, or were you going to tell me you love me again?_

His fist was buried into a wall. He didn't remember where he was or what had happened, but Nate was uttering some sort of comfort that Chuck couldn't understand. He tried moving his fingers in the drywall. He felt his flesh crack apart. He clenched his teeth.

Even as he tried to rip his hand from the wall, he could hear her sharp laughter. He could hear her leopard's nails click against the tile, and he had to get out.

"Easy," Nate said quietly. Chuck glowered at Nate's hand relaxing his wrist to help pull it out.

"What happened?" Chuck asked drowsily.

"What do you think?" Nate asked. "What always happens."

"She can't keep doing this to me," Chuck whispered. "She can't keep messing with my head like this."

"You know that's not it," Nate said. "Hold still."

With one grimace, Nate pulled his hand out of the wall. Plaster fell from his knuckles as blood ran down his forearm.

"This shirt cost five hundred dollars," Chuck said, staring at his hand.

"You weren't paying attention to her," Nate said. "Why should she act any different?"

"If torturing me is what she needs to do," Chuck murmured, "then it's what I'll do for her."

"This isn't penance, Chuck," Nate said. "This is the end."

"I couldn't have messed up this bad," Chuck said, Nate fading further into the background. "It's not possible."

"Maybe she does still love you," Nate said. "But maybe that's not enough anymore."

"Since when did you become so introspective?" Chuck found himself snapping.

"Since my best friend fell in love with my first girlfriend," Nate said.

His leopard snarled at his aching hand. He just must have been masochistic.

_Stop trying to play the wife._

"I love you."

"It's not enough."

Finally he felt true rage course through him at those words.

"It would have been enough before," he couldn't help but seethe.

"You have a real problem," Blair sneered. "You know that?"

"Enlighten me," Chuck retorted. "I have done more for you than I have for any other woman and it's not enough."

"You sling your hurtful words at me, and I forgave you," Blair said threateningly. "But this time it's just too much."

"Why?" Chuck asked. "Just tell me what to do to make it better."

"You fell out of love with me first," Blair said shakily, and his heart broke for the tears escaping her perfect eyes.

"I didn't," Chuck said. "I swear I didn't. You know me."

"I do," Blair acquiesced. "That's why I can say with complete confidence that I never want to see you again."

"You're lying."

"Maybe now," Blair relented. "But one day I'll be relieved I made this decision."

"We're going to be together in the end," Chuck vowed.

"You're not even repentant," Blair snapped.

"I am," Chuck said. "I just want to be with you again."

"Because you finally need me now?" Blair asked. "We're only together when it's convenient for you and I'm done with it."

"You said you believed we would be together one day," Chuck said. "I didn't think there was a threat of that not happening."

"The moment you fall in love with someone else, is the moment you lose me," Blair said.

"I have killed myself for you," Chuck said. "And you know that you're the only one I would do that for."

"Then hear me when I say this," Blair said darkly. "Go to hell. Because that is the only conceivable way you could ever deserve to be with me again."

_The worst thing I've ever done, the darkest thought I've ever had... You said you would stand by me through anything. This, Blair, is anything._

_I never thought the worst think you'd do would be to me._

_You went up there on your own._

"I am in hell."

His dark eyes were reflected in the mirror and all he could see was the monster he had become. That lioness had taken his heart out, and yet he was still standing, still loathing, still hating everything he had become when she didn't love him anymore.

He grabbed the bottle's neck, casting it down his throat to make his eyes water. It was only her that could make him feel so weak.

"I am in hell."

It was too much to look at himself in the mirror when he didn't even deserve to breathe without her. His fingers grabbed the edge of the mirror, attempting to rip it off of the wall. His muscles screamed and he hated his even more prominent weakness.

"Chuck."

He hated himself. He hated his best friend for trying to pin him to the floor in his fit of rage. In a cry of anger, he hurled the bottle of whiskey at the mirror, shattering his reflection.

And then everything went black.


	2. The Vestibule

**A/N**: So a lot of people had questions about where this fic is going. If you're dying to know, wikipedia The Infero, as this fic is inspired by it. Also keep in mind that this does have a spiritual category so this isn't necessarily in the realm of actual possibility. So as you read this chapter, please keep an open mind. The lovely **Very Last Valkyrie** was so kind to make some promo pics for this fic. http : / / s 575 . photobucket . com / albums / ss 200 / jasper in my room/

**Summary**: Smoke curled from her lips, and he knew that without a doubt, this was the most evil woman he had ever seen in his life. Her eyes penetrated his, and he wondered why he was being graced by this beauty's presence.

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine. Idea comces from Dante's Inferno. Beta-ed by the awesome **comewhatmay.x.**

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The wretched screams came first. Then came the grinding pain in his back, forcing his eyes to snap open. Shards of rock dug into his back as he attempted to sit up. He gritted his teeth in pain as he took in the surrounding city, which was in shambles around him.

New York City was indecipherable as he tried to take in the scene. Clouds of smoke curled from half of the buildings while the rest seemed as fragile as toothpicks as they lay crumpled to the ground. The earth was still groaning from tectonic plates crushing into each other. The crust of the earth was broken and uneven and Chuck could practically feel the heat from the hot core radiating in waves from the ground.

Screams of anguish echoed around him, left over from the evident quake. The thing was, Chuck didn't remember any of it. He remembered who he was. He remembered his name, his father, what his birthright was, but the rest escaped him. All he knew was that he was lying in the middle of a quelling earthquake in New York City, his forehead burning from the blood weeping from his even more apparent head wound.

As Chuck absorbed his surroundings, he realized that for once, he wasn't the sole victim. For once he wasn't selfishly thinking of himself because the screams were getting louder in his ears. They were no longer ringing and he was suddenly aware of the apparent devastation.

He wasn't the only one with head wounds. There was screaming tragedy all around him. People with missing limbs, crying obscenities and distress as blood washed the streets of the city red.

Rumbles echoed beneath him as he tried to pull himself up. But the ability evaded him and his legs crumpled beneath him.

That was when he saw her. Suddenly, there she was.

He had never seen her before and he had no idea who she was, but he was certain that without a doubt, she was the most beautiful thing he would ever see until the day he died.

Her very presence had a profound effect on him. He didn't care about her three companions. Shrieks of dismay fell around him, and he couldn't help but stare. She was just standing amongst the rubble without a care in the world. He had to talk to her. He had to know her. None of any of these urges made sense to him.

Then again, he was half-buried in a pile of rock.

Fire from the crumpling building behind her exploded, and she was suddenly illuminated with heated light as she locked eyes with him.

Pain chocked through him and suddenly, he was overcome with a sensation of guilt and heartbreak. He had never felt those things in his life, but he knew what they were. And he suddenly marveled at how familiar she looked.

The scent of scotch and bar filtered through his nostrils and all he could see was wide dark eyes filled with tears. He was no longer on a New York Street but in another place all together.

_"I have no one to turn to but you."_

_"Actually, you don't even have me."_

He felt cold sorrow in his chest at the sight of the broken beauty before him, but all he could do was experience it.

_"Enough."_

_"Let me try to be more succinct—"_

Brown eyes blinked and the scent disappeared. There was just the girl with narrowed eyes and him in a city going up in flames. She was looking down at him with an unreadable expression. It was certainly not the way he was used to women looking at him. She looked cold and heartless.

He liked it.

He liked the way her hair of pitch swept her bare shoulders. He never questioned for a second why she was wearing such a formal dress in such devastation. All he saw was the ruched body of the pewter dress and how her bare shoulder shone pale in the light of the all-consuming fires. She was so painfully beautiful, and Chuck knew there had to be a reason why his heart hurt so much.

Because she was mocking him to those around her, and he finally had to take notice of the people forming a crescent around her.

All three of them had strikingly blue eyes, but Chuck was drawn to brunette at their center. Her eyes were as dark as night, and he had to admire the symmetry of her dark features that matched his own.

The only male slid his hands across her bare shoulders. He sent a sleazy smirk of confidence in Chuck's direction—a look he knew all too well. There wasn't anything light about him, having the dirty effect that Chuck was so used to portraying. The two other females stood by with identical looks of boredom. One with hair almost dark as the beauty before him, skin pasty with a sneer of a harpy. The other's hair was summer between blonde and brunette, dressed in a uniform of beige and gray.

But his attention was only diverged to the woman with strikingly dark eyes while bright blue ones reflected around her. Her smile was that of a taunting vixen, and sure enough, the man by her side held a lighter to her face, flicking it to life to light the filter-less cigarette perched between her fingers.

Smoke curled from her lips, and he knew that without a doubt, this was the most evil woman he had ever seen in his life. Her eyes penetrated his, and he wondered why he was being graced by this beauty's presence.

Then he remembered that he didn't think that way. She was a woman. And that was it. She was picking her way through the jagged rocks, the man at her side while the females kept a careful three feet behind her.

As she neared, he couldn't help but flinch for a second. There was something in her eyes that seemed...demonic. But she wasn't looking at him. She easily stepped over him as though he were the dirt beneath her Louboutins.

"Pathetic."

The voice came from the man at her side. For a moment she didn't answer. She cast a look back at Chuck with a pensive look on her face, as though seeing him for the first time.

"You think?" she asked. "There's something helplessly precious about him."

True to her words, Chuck looked up helplessly at the woman who seemed under the impression that he couldn't hear her.

Or so he thought.

"You better not delay, boy," the man said coldly. "Your old man's time is just about up."

A shock of fear struck through his heart, and he knew it showed on his face.

"Don't look at me, precious," she taunted condescendingly. "There's only a limited amount of time before he goes."

"What..."

The first time he tried to speak, he felt his throat grate painfully.

But the girl nodded her head towards the pile of rubble before him, and his heart dropped into his stomach. Because there his father was, Big Bad Bart, wasting away in a pool of his own blood. Metallic-red fluid spat from between Bart's lips, but not even for one second did his cold, blue eyes show an ounce of pain.

"Father," Chuck pleaded. "Tell me what I can do."

But true to his character and just as he had been in life, Bart didn't have faith in him. He didn't have the faith in Chuck to be the son he wanted, nor did he trust Chuck enough to save him. Chuck just sat amongst the destruction, feeling his father slip away in his arms.

Shock.

That was it.

Never had Chuck Bass envisioned himself sitting covered in blood in dirt.

"Don't look so pathetic, Precious."

Hearing her voice gave him a sense of comfort that he didn't understand. Just like the circumstances that he now found himself in, he couldn't understand anything anymore.

Her minions weren't about her now, as she smirked down at him, blowing smoke out of her mouth. She flicked her cigarette to the street as another building fell down behind them.

And as though she wasn't even speaking to him at all, she turned on her heel, the skirt of her dress brushing against the ground. The dirt didn't even seem able to touch her, just floating off of her as though she was too celestial for this perversion of the home he used to know.

Heat didn't seem to touch her either, but Chuck's anger was so extreme, he could do nothing but follow his instinct to chase her.

"What do you know?"

His attempt at antagonism failed, because as soon as he put his hands on her to pin her against one of the few buildings that were still stable, her bare flesh scalded him as though he had been burned.

_"Enough with the blackmail. Aren't you bored already? I can't avoid Nate forever."_

_"I didn't say forever. Just until the sight of the two of you doesn't turn my stomach."_

Chuck pulled away suddenly. For a moment, he had thought she looked so different. As though he had actually seen her before.

She laughed at the obvious confusion on his face.

"Who are you?" Chuck whispered.

"That's not really the question you want answered," she said, "now is it?"

"What question would that be?"

She smiled demurely.

"Have me met before?" Chuck asked.

"In another life, perhaps," she said.

"What is this place?" Chuck asked. "This isn't the place that I remember."

"Clearly," she answered. "Since you found your dead father here and all."

"My father wasn't dead," Chuck said. "He was..."

But suddenly he didn't know. Suddenly he was even more confused than before.

"Think about it," she said. "But you're right. This isn't the place that you remember."

"What is it?"

"It isn't time yet, Precious," she said.

"What's your name?"

"Twenty questions is getting a bit boring," she sighed.

"You don't belong here either," Chuck stopped her, being careful not to touch her.

"What makes you say that?" she asked curiously.

"Have you seen this place?" he laughed. "And look at you..."

But he finally did. And suddenly he was unsure of everything again. At first glance, she was perfection. Alabaster skin with contrasting dark features.

It was her eyes. There was something unsettling and dark about them. Not the color that matched his own, but something was very unsettling. He couldn't be sure, but for a moment, he could have sworn that the whites of her eyes had swirled with a demonic red.

But she blinked and everything was as it seemed.

That made him think the exact opposite.

"You're confused again," she smirked. Without preamble, his heart gave a sudden thud in his chest and he couldn't understand the sudden reaction.

"Tell me what's happening."

"It isn't time yet," she said, turning around.

Chuck was staring after her and after a moment, she paused.

"Well?" she asked. "Are you coming?"

"With you?" Chuck asked in surprise. "I don't even know your name."

"Not like that hasn't happened before."

"You know me," Chuck said suspiciously.

"I do."

"But we haven't met."

"In another life."

"What does that even mean?" Chuck asked. "Where _are _we?"

"You are exactly where you're meant to be," she said seriously. He had to blink furiously to rid the image of distorted eyes that he knew couldn't actually be there, despite the destruction of the city he had grown up in around them.

"But you know."

"Of course I do," she said. "I live here."

"So do I."

"No, you don't," she said. "But you do now."

"I don't understand-"

"It isn't time yet," she said. "I know that you need to know and control everything. But as of now, you're just going to have to accept that."

His first instinct was to respond in the negative.

Then again, she was a beautiful woman.

"You have a one-track mind."

"I don't think that's fair," Chuck said. "You know everything and I know nothing."

"You must really be going through hell," she remarked.

"Why am I here?" Chuck asked.

"Because you deserve to be," she said snappishly. His eyes narrowed at her sudden reaction. But her antagonistic mask fell away and she smiled.

"If I'm going to go with you..." Chuck said slowly. "I'm going to need to know your name."

"Like you even have a choice," she laughed. "You want to go with me. You're _fascinated_ by me, aren't you? You are absolutely desperate to feel me out, Precious."

"What makes you say that?" Chuck asked. He always hated when people told him how he felt.

"History always repeats itself," she said tauntingly.

"Who are you?" Chuck couldn't help but ask the same questions over and over again.

"Your worst nightmare," she said sweetly, turning again.

"You think I'm afraid of you?" Chuck asked.

"I think you're afraid that someone has more power than you do," she answered. "And that, Precious, is a very real reality."

"Where are your friends?" Chuck asked tersely, hating how this one woman knew him better than anyone.

"Friends."

She repeated the word with actual confusion and it gave him a sort of gratification to have baffled her.

"Those people I saw you with."

"Those aren't people," he said. "They're demons. Beings who revel in causing pain and misery."

"Like you."

"Me?"

"You like seeing me suffer."

"Are you suffering right now?" she asked.

"You seemed happy with them," Chuck observed.

"I'm not happy," she answered. "No one is down here."

"Down here?"

"You're talking about Carter," she said, ignoring his inquiry.

"The man with you."

"No one is happy here," she said. "Carter isn't. Juliet and Georgina certainly aren't. But you don't like Carter. Do you?"

"I don't know him."

"You don't know me, either," she said. "And yet."

"You know me."

She smiled again. "You are here for a reason."

"What reason?"

"You know," she said.

"I don't."

"You will," she replied. "Soon enough. You want to satiate that thirst for knowledge? You'll come with me."

"Where are we going?" Chuck asked. It didn't seem to matter, because he found himself following in her wake anyway.

"The Inferno."

Looking at his surroundings as he watched flames consuming cars and window displays of stores, he couldn't help but believe he was already in a furnace.

She paused at his silence.

"It's a club," she answered.

"It sounds..."

"Hedonistic," she smiled. "You're right. Everything is down here."

She was true to her word because as soon as they turned the corner, heat radiated from the only building that had any ounce of life in it. The music from the raucous club pounded beneath their feet, red lights streaming in shafts from the windows.

"Why are we here?" Chuck asked.

"Because you have nowhere else to go," she said. "No father. No friends. No love at all, really."

"And you?" Chuck snapped.

"I don't need love," she said. "I have this."

"What is this?"

"Retribution," she said. "Because every snap of pain you feel within you, vindicates me just a little bit more."

Chuck stopped before they reached the entrance. It was crowded with caterwauling and crying souls begging to be let in. A red carpet stretched across the streets, roped off with maroon velvet.

She stopped with him.

"Don't act surprised," she said. "I was created purposely for your destruction. But you knew that already."

"I don't..."

"Don't tax yourself," she sighed. "It's becoming a bit predictable."

"You are amazing."

"Predictable." Her eyes narrowed snidely. "A woman treats you like dirt and you worship her. It's disgusting."

"You're not a woman."

He watched her face fall, and for a moment, he knew they were talking about two different things.

"You look like an angel," Chuck said. "You're a white silhouette in the backdrop of black night. But that's not really what you are. Are you?"

"How did you decipher such a complex riddle?" she bit out cruelly. His heart started to throb painfully. "You don't know why you're here now. But that will soon change. Don't look at me like that. Don't look at me with like, or adoration, or worship. You have fallen into that trap before and now look where you are."

"Where is that?"

"The Inferno," she said simply.

"I'm not going a step further until you tell me who you are."

"That I cannot do," she said. "Not yet. But I can give you a name."

"What was with the foreplay if you were going to tell me?"

"I like to see you squirm."

"Tell me."

"I'm Blair Waldorf," she said. "And you're Chuck Bass."

He didn't answer with his usual smugness. He didn't answer at all. It was something about the way her lips formed his own name.

"It's a very beautiful name," he said.

"And that is exactly what I told you not to do," Blair said. "You're only making this harder for yourself."

"What?"

"Your torment," she said. "You find it so easy to look at me with fascination. But if you do, it will destroy you."

Even at her harsh words, he couldn't stop himself from following her to the carpet.

"You brought him."

The man Blair had identified as Carter looked upon Chuck with contempt.

"But you were aware of that," Blair answered prettily. "You know how this works."

Chuck paused at the edge of the red carpet Carter was already walking across. "Are you coming?"

"Wait for me inside," Blair said, and Carter went on his way.

"So you two are together," Chuck assumed.

"Down here, nothing is that simple."

"You keep saying that."

"There are many things you will learn here," Blair said. She turned back to the carpet to see the bouncer turning towards him.

Chuck couldn't stop himself from cringing. He had never seen a man so gruesome.

"Miss Waldorf."

"Charon," Blair acknowledged. Tattooed around his eyes were flames, igniting eyes that looked just as red. Charon stepped aside and let Blair make her way across the carpet. Chuck made his attempt to follow her but was barred.

"You are not allowed to cross the Acheron Carpet," Charon said.

"What?" Chuck asked in disbelief. "Do you even have an idea who I am?"

"You aren't with us," Charon replied.

"I'm with her," Chuck protested.

"You aren't allowed."

Chuck looked helplessly over the shoulder of the bouncer at Blair, unsure as to why he was so desperate to follow her.

"You must really be in hell," Blair laughed. "Someone who doesn't know who Chuck Bass is."

And suddenly everything felt so very sad. He looked at those on the sides. Sad and pathetic souls. Those with syringes injected junk into their veins. Vomit lined the streets and for a horrifying moment, Chuck had to think that Blair was right.

"Blair," Chuck said, unsure of why sadness came so closely attributed to the sound of her name on his tongue.

"You're meant to be inside, Bass," Blair said. "You'll get inside. But I couldn't very well risk my reputation by being seen with you, could I?"

"What?"

"You were right before," Blair said. "I am known here for my virtue. And being seen with a sinner like you is the last thing that I need."

And in a second he was pushed aside, more souls clamoring for the attention of Charon.

"You always did have a way with women."

Chuck froze at the cold voice he thought he would never hear again. Weaving his way through the throng was the father he had watched die not so long ago.

Chuck watched with familiar paralysis as Bart Bass approached him.

"Father?" Chuck asked in disbelief.

"She won't tell you," Bart said. "She finds solace in using your pain and confusion to satiate her lust."

"I saw you die," Chuck said, unable to even think of how very confused he was about everything here.

"No, Chuck," Bart said. "I've been dead for a very long time."

"You're dead," Chuck said.

"I am."

"Then what am I?"

"I'm sure that Blair would relish in being the one to tell you that," Bart said. "But she won't. Not yet."

"Will you tell me where we are?" Chuck asked.

"Yes, Charles," Bart said, taking him by the arm. One look at Bart, and Charon stepped aside, letting them cross the Acheron carpet. Chuck found him faltering in his steps as the entrance to The Inferno opened to the touch.

A wave of heat enveloped them as they entered. They passed the foyer and into the room. Chuck couldn't comprehend all of the sin and hedonism consuming everything in the grand room.

And his father said the exact thing he suddenly realized he had been fearing all along.

"Welcome to Hell."


	3. Limbo

**A/N**: This chapter is short, and sort of filler, but it's necessary for future story progression. And as I told my awesome beta **comewhatmay.x**, I really hope the last paragraph redeems the chapter.

**Summary**: She was above it all. She looked so forbidden in her black dress. So forbidden that he found himself so drawn to her that he couldn't see where he was going. So much that at her sultry wink, he thought he had her.

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine. Inspired by Dante's Inferno and the current season of GG. Characters and references and such belong to that awesome awesome show. Thanks to **The **awesome **Very Last Valkyrie** who made promo pics. If you want to check it out, here's the one made for this chapter. **http : / / s575 . photobucket . com / albums / ss 200 / jasperinmyroom / ? action = view & current = Circle 1 . jpg**. Just remove the spaces.

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_"-needs to be violated-"_

_"-think you're more like me-"_

_"-entitled to is a house in the Hamptons, maybe a prescription drug-"_

_"-party. Things happ-"_

_"Your life is over, slut. I know everything."_

Chuck didn't know how he ended up on the floor. Unfamiliar imagines swirled before his eyes, and all he could feel was the deep seeded emotion of self-loathing, always seeming to be brewing beneath his skin.

He looked up to see a whirlwind of people, who didn't even notice his collapsed form on the floor. Humid waves of heat permeated the room causing his breath to short. Upon attempting to gain strength to rise, he had found the heat had sapped all of his energy from him, sweat seeping through his shirt causing it to stick uncomfortably to his ribs.

"Fath-" he rasped but the call for the dying man who had abandoned him yet again died in the back of his throat.

There she was.

Amidst all of the sinners that didn't have the right to be in her mere proximity, there she was. He couldn't imagine how she held the ability to stand so high and mighty when he was dying of asphyxiation. He found himself suffering of heatstroke while she stood there, lording over him in her black, lacy shift.

And she looked beautiful in it.

But that was all he saw.

"It can be a little jarring when you first enter."

Chuck looked up into the cold blue eyes of his father, marveling at the fact that the old man was actually offering his hand to his own son. Chuck clasped it, being hoisted to his feet.

"Jarring," Chuck repeated.

"You start remembering things that you've done, people you've hurt," Bart said. "And the torment only starts there."

"She said-" Chuck said gruffly, his throat raw from the scorching environment. "She told me that I was here for her retribution."

"And you are," Bart affirmed.

"What does that mean?"

"The second you set foot in here, you collapsed," Bart said. "Do you remember anything from when you were on the floor?"

"Nothing that makes sense," Chuck admitted.

"That will change," Bart said. But the instructive role he had taken on suddenly disappeared, and he wore the face of the father that Chuck used to know so well. "What was it that you were looking at?"

"What?"

"You need to be careful down here," Bart said warningly. "She looks harmless and pure, but she is the exact opposite."

"Why?"

"Because you are down here for a reason," Bart said.

"That's what she said."

"Blair has no need to lie to you," he said. "She just likes playing with you. Keep that in mind."

"You're helping me," Chuck remarked in surprise. "I didn't think that was possible."

"I'm only here to make you wary," Bart said. "The rest just want to destroy you."

"Have I done something that bad?" Chuck asked. He knew who he truly was as a person, but he wasn't quite sure what that meant. He didn't know how he had come to be in this foreign, yet familiar, place and he didn't know where it was leading him.

"I can't follow you from here."

It was the only way Bart could answer him.

"I belong here."

"Here?" Chuck questioned, gazing around the foyer of the club.

"I was never a good person, Charles," Bart said. "Never quite good, never completely bad. I can't move forward."

"Does that mean I was completely bad?" Chuck asked.

"You aren't anything," Bart answered. "You are a drifter. No matter how much you desire to know-"

"It isn't time yet," Chuck finished.

"Goodbye, Charles."

For a moment, Chuck stood stricken. For a moment, he was in a tuxedo as orderlies pulled a sheet over an old man's head.

But then he wasn't in that apparent hospital anymore.

Now he was alone. He put a foot over the threshold, feeling himself start to soak through with perspiration again.

She had been watching him. Despite the fact that every other soul in the house was sweating and gyrating against each other, she was above it all. She looked so forbidden in her black dress. So forbidden that he found himself so drawn to her that he couldn't see where he was going. So much that at her sultry wink, he thought he had her.

Then she was gone in an instant.

"That girl is a harpy."

The moment Chuck laid eyes on him, he felt a wave of pure, unadulterated anger like he had never felt before. The moment he saw him, Chuck felt as though his nose was about to burst and his cheek was on fire.

_"Who are you anyway?"_

_"My name is Dan Humphrey, and that is my little sister."_

Chuck took a sudden step back, having the strange feeling that he had been assaulted. But there was something protective within him that would never let this stranger see his uncertainty.

"Excuse me?" Chuck asked icily.

"That girl that you're fooling yourself into thinking is such an angel," he said easily. "She is a ninety-five pound, bon-mot tossing, label-whoring Medusa."

It wasn't the first time since he had awoken that he had the uncanny suspicion that everyone knew more than him.

He didn't like it.

"Look who knows so much," Chuck drawled, suddenly feeling more himself than he could remember. He felt at home here. He felt at home sneering down on someone that could only be described as an invalid. And he liked doing it. "So how many times has she rejected you?"

"Blair doesn't reject you," was the answer. "Because you don't approach her to begin with. And that includes you."

"That sounds like a challenge," Chuck smirked.

"You would think so," he answered. "But you don't know what it's like down here."

"And who are you, that you do?"

Chuck looked the stranger darkly who laughed sardonically.

"My name is Dan Humphrey," he said, and Chuck thought he tasted blood at the back of his mouth. "Do you remember yet?"

"Remember what?" Chuck asked.

"Everything," Dan said. "Though I don't know why I'm warning you. We both know how much we hate each other."

"Do we?"

"You know we do," Dan said. "But don't worry about it. We'll meet again soon. Preferably when you find out something new."

"Like what?"

"Like the reason I told you to be careful," Dan said. "Not that I care."

"I don't need your help," Chuck snarled.

"There," Dan said. "You feel this hatred for me that isn't something you can describe. And believe me when I say there is a reason why all of us are down here. Including her."

"And why are you down here?" Chuck asked. "Crime of judgement?"

Dan looked coldly at him, but his gaze strayed over his shoulder before he spoke again.

"You deserve whatever she gives you."

Chuck turned to look. Suddenly, the club seemed to only house the two of them, and his pull to her was undeniable.

"Don't talk to him," Blair advised.

"Why not?" Chuck asked.

Blair smirked sexily. She eased her hand up his shoulder, threading her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck.

"Because I said so," she uttered darkly. "And you want to do everything that I tell you. Don't you?"

"Absolutely."

He shouldn't have looked into her eyes.

He might as well have drowned in them.


	4. The Lustful

**A/N**: Here's the chapter that I hope everyone has been waiting for. As you can tell my the chapter name, stuff's gonna be going down.

**Summary**: "Haven't you ever seen a devil in disguise before?" she asked coldly."I've seen an angel drawn to the dark side," he smirked, weaving his fingers through her hair. "Or if anything... a devil redeemed."

**Disclaimer**: Inspiration comes from Dante's Inferno. Special thanks to my beta **comewhatmay.x **who aassured me it was carnal enough. And check out **The Very Last Valkyrie's **page where she made a promo pic for The Lustful. It's pretty awesome. **http : / / s575 . photobucket . com / albums / ss 200 / jasper in my room / ? action = view & current = Circle 2 . jpg**. Just remove the spaces.

* * *

_Love, which in the gentlest hearts will soonest bloom_

_seized my lover with passion for that sweet body_

_from which I was torn unshriven to my doom._

_-The Inferno_

His entire life, he had been a blind man. He had fumbled through the darkness, unsure of where he was supposed to be, or what he was supposed to do. But it was clear now—as clear as the heat surrounding him and the blinding lights blurring his vision. Sitting on a familiar looking couch, he couldn't exactly understand how he had come to be there. But she was looking at him. She wasn't turning away.

And for some reason, that pleased him more than anything.

"Do you like looking at me?"

Her voice was soft and taunting, and he had to wonder as to how he could hear it above the undulating music. But there she was, her movements subtle and sensual, and he truly had to think before he spoke, because he couldn't absorb any meaning besides the fact that she was looking at him with those eyes of hers.

The very fact that he couldn't look away was answer enough.

"Do you want to do more than look?" she asked. The lights hit her body as she moved and he felt a sensory overload at everything that was happening around him.

Her hand slid down the zipper at her side and he could finally see her lace slip underneath. Shimmering oyster silk, trimmed in beaded white lace, and he found himself rising to his feet.

Like he even had the free will to deny her.

"Don't get up," she said, holding her hand up. Her heels finally clicked down the final step of the stage to reach him. "You didn't answer me."

He tried reaching her, but felt himself halting, remembering the last time he did.

"Yes," he answered. "I did."

"You don't have anymore questions?" she smirked. "You were so talkative before."

"I prefer to talk after," Chuck husked, feeling more himself than ever.

"After what?" she goaded. Before he could reply, she pushed on his chest, causing him to collapse back on the couch. "Are you sure you're ready for me?"

"If I'm ready?" he laughed.

"You really don't heed warnings, do you?" she asked.

"I find them encouraging."

"That's the problem."

She leaned forward, bracing her hand on his shoulder so he could slide his hand over her stocking-clad thigh. Fabric separated them, and he was afraid of what would happen if he could feel her heated flesh again.

"And you were so fearless before," she commented.

He knew what she was doing, but he didn't know why. He still didn't know anything more than he had since the earth was shaken to its core. But as she hovered before him, he found that he truly didn't care.

His hand clasped around her throat, forcing her to kiss him. There was a slight tremor between them, making him feel triumphant.

Before everything exploded.

_"Did you sleep with her, huh?" _

_"Look could we talk about this without your hands around my neck?"_

_"You son of a bitch, I could kill you right now."_

Chuck sputtered, releasing his own hold on her neck as she broke away. He felt blinded and scalded, unsure of where he was. But the flashes were coming at such a rapid pace, he couldn't be aware of anything but what was searing behind his eyelids.

_"Is Gossip Girl right about you being a coward?"_

_"That's not true and you know it."_

He felt indignant anger flaring through him at the sight of that girl in opposite colors, and tears in her eyes. It was anger he didn't recognize. It was anger he couldn't understand while she was crying at him.

_"Chuck Bass, I love you. I love you so much, it consumes me. I love you. And I know you love me too. Tell me you love me."_

His head began to throb painfully and he felt his legs begin to weaken and give out. The broken dark beauty was replaced with the light one, but she wore a condescending scowl. And nothing made sense anymore.

And he had a feeling that nothing would again.

_"I destroyed the only thing I ever loved."_

And then it all faded away. She was sitting next to him, analyzing him with eyes that went leagues beneath the surface.

"Do you understand now?" she asked quietly.

Chuck just stared.

"I didn't think so," Blair sighed. But she didn't look defeated at the prospect, and it was that glint in her eyes that frightened him.

"I don't want to feel that way," Chuck said slowly.

"But that's why you're here, precious" Blair answered, "with me."

"I like it here with you."

"You really have an absence of morality," Blair said, "don't you?"

"You make me forget about it," he said truthfully.

"You have no idea how much trouble you get yourself into," Blair said.

"You make me want to."

His hand curled around the curve of her jaw, ignoring the burning sensation that threatened to spill unfamiliar images into his head.

"You should embrace it," she advised. But he ignored all of it, crushing his lips against hers. Her nails broke through his shirt, forcing him to pull away from her. He gazed down at her and he knew that the way her eyes were closed, he should be afraid. Her lids eased open slowly and he knew why.

He knew that this time, he didn't imagine it. At a first glance it could have just been confused with blood shot eyes. But he knew it this time. He knew as the whites of her eyes turned a disconcerting red.

He didn't pull away.

"Your eyes..." Chuck murmured, stroking her cheek. She pushed him away, sitting up straight against the couch.

"Haven't you ever seen a devil in disguise before?" she asked coldly.

"I've seen an angel drawn to the dark side," he smirked, weaving his fingers through her hair. "Or if anything... a devil redeemed."

"Don't romanticize this," she said, brushing his hands away. "Don't glamorize this."

"You're beautiful."

"You need to see what is right in front of you," Blair said. "You need to understand."

"You're beautiful."

He had a feeling that he was letting her down, but everything fell away. His hands were seemingly magnetized to her body and she relented. Fingers ripped clothing from heated flesh and he sent everything from the table in front of them crashing to the ground.

He pushed her across it, lying across her, her slip soft beneath his fingers. Her red eyes bore right through him and he should have known. He should have understood, but he just couldn't. Because she was feverish and exquisite and it felt like he was the first person ever to push his way inside of her.

He panted against her neck, closing his eyes against the grinding pleasure she was bringing him towards. It wasn't something he had ever experienced. Because he didn't feel just one woman, just one time. He felt every single second of pleasure he had ever felt in his entire life. Pleasures that he didn't even remember happening.

_You were amazing up there._

_On me you could be so much more._

_You want me to tell him how you slept with me and then faked your virginity for him?_

_What names does he call you when you make love? Where does he put his hands..._

_If you thought that was long you have no idea what you're in for._

_She did state something to the effect that he didn't quite satisfy her like I used to._

Chuck felt his muscles begin to clench uncontrollably, and he couldn't help himself as he bit into her shoulder.

_Where does he put his hands..._

"Oh, _god_."

It wasn't her who said it, but him. It was him that felt something that he never had in his life. It was him who was moaning and thrashing and shaking. She done nothing, and yet, he had never been more satisfied in his life.

"Not exactly."

Chuck exhaled as she slid out from beneath him, pulling her slip back into place as though nothing had transpired between them. She straightened her hair pristinely, and he never would have thought he had touched her at all.

"What did I tell you?"

Chuck looked up, unsure as to how he could feel so exhausted when she never ceased in looking so perfect.

"Please," Chuck snorted. "I know you liked it."

"Did I?" Blair asked, with something that sounded a lot like confusion.

And suddenly he was very confused.

"Huh," Blair shrugged, and suddenly he realized that she was the one with marks of passion on her. "Well it was nice talking to you."

"Excuse me?" Chuck asked, standing on shaky legs.

"You of all people should know, Chuck," Blair said. "It was just sex."

"It wasn't," he insisted indignantly. "We were..."

"We were what?" Blair asked. "Think real hard. We just met tonight, didn't we?"

But he felt as though he had known her his entire life and he couldn't understand it.

"You just have to embrace the fact that this is the way things are," Blair said condescendingly. "I came here with Carter anyway."

"You said that you weren't dating," Chuck accused.

"I said things are a lot more complicated down here," Blair said. "And until you remember exactly why you're here, that's the way things are going to stay."

"Remember what?" Chuck asked.

"You remember," Blair told him. "I know you do. I saw it."

"I don't know what it means," Chuck said slowly.

"It means you're a whore for anything in a skirt," Blair sighed. "To be honest, you're too carnal for me."

"Too _carnal_?" Chuck repeated with disdain.

"How am I to know?" Blair asked. "You could have a whole collection of concubines at your beck and call. And I have too much self respect for that."

Sitting on a couch as he watched her perfect form disappear from his sight, he realized his shirt was hanging open and his breath was still short.

He stumbled outside of the room. Rain poured from the sky that he had noticed for the first time. There was no light of any kind. Just thick purple clouds constantly whirling, lightning striking towards the earth.

"You looking for a date?"

Chuck had heard questions such as those before, and didn't have to look to know. Whatever it was, it was dressed like some sort of woman. A woman in fishnets and leopard print, and all he felt was disgust.

He shouldered past her and all others like her, now knowing the true definition of hell.

_Love, which permits no loved one not to love,_

_took me so strongly wit delight in him_

_that we are one in Hell, as we were above._

_-The Inferno_


	5. The Gluttonous

**A/N**: Another short one, but again, important stuff.

**Summary**: He still couldn't keep his eyes off of her. How she so obliviously ignored his searching eyes and aching body. She had implanted an addiction in him, and the scotch wasn't satiating it.

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine. Quotes and inspiration come from Dante's Inferno. Thanks to **comewhatmay.x** who is trying to beta this is as quickly as possible. Thanks also to **The Very Lasy Valkyrie** who makes her awesome promo pics for me. **http : / s575 . photobucket . com / albums / ss 200 / jasper in my room / ? action = view & current = Circle 3 . jpg**. Just remove the spaces.

* * *

_It is written: the more a thing is perfect the more it feels of pleasure and pain._

_-The Inferno_

He remembered.

He didn't know where he was. He didn't know the purpose of it all. But Chuck remembered. He knew that, without a doubt, this woman was from somewhere else. He knew that she was some sort of twisted version of himself.

And he knew that he loved her.

Whenever he closed his eyes, all he saw were visions of himself. Visions of heartache and tears. But they weren't of him and the breaking that he felt within him. He saw it on her. And he heard the carefully crafted words he allegedly uttered, but had no idea where they came from.

Chuck remembered.

He remembered saying every single one of those things.

He just didn't remember why.

_Our pull is as undeniable as ever._

He remembered every single time that Blair Waldorf cried over him. Even if he didn't remember when he learned her last name, or how he knew who her favorite actress was. Because seeing those images in front of his eyes, and the cruel beauty in front of him, something didn't add up.

Chuck looked at this Blair Waldorf who smirked, and something was strange.

She wasn't perfect. There was something missing from her, but he couldn't tell what it was. There was something perverted and different about her. But considering he had known her for all of thirty-six hours, he wouldn't torture himself over it. He would just keep staring. Because at this point, he wouldn't be surprised if she tortured him for eternity herself.

Atmosphere didn't match his surroundings. Stepping inside the club once more, he watched fake snowflakes falling in the Winter Wonderland themed room. He couldn't help but feel how very _high school _all of it was.

That is, until he saw her.

She matched the frigid scenery in her form-fitting, scalloped white bandage dress. It stopped right at her thighs and once again, he had to wonder how she knew exactly what to do to torture him so exquisitely. A white headband was perched on top of her head, and Chuck knew it was some sort of a representation of her royalty.

Then again, he didn't know how he had procured this information.

Red eyes burned at him, but Chuck was past being shaken by it. Everywhere he went, no one was concealing their identities any longer and it didn't matter.

"Scotch. Neat."

He knew this was his home. Though it was some twisted and perverted version of it, it was still his home.

He just wished he knew what that meant.

He felt the scalding eyes of otherworldly things, but they didn't bother him. Even when her eyes were stinging and raging, it didn't matter. Because he was meant to be here. That he was sure of.

The bartender slid the glass at him a little too harshly, causing liquid to slosh over the bar. Even halfway to Wreckedville, he still couldn't keep his eyes off of her. How she so obliviously ignored his searching eyes and aching body. She had implanted an addiction in him, and the scotch wasn't satiating it.

By the time he slammed the empty glass on the bar, he was all the way gone, and he couldn't stop himself from approaching her. It was so easy for him to slide his arm around her soft shoulders and suppress images he had already seen tenfold.

"Aren't you a little cold?" Chuck asked pointedly, gazing at her bare thighs. He heard her exhale slightly before even deigning to turn to look at him.

"Down here?" Blair asked. She batted her eyelashes and his eyes were drawn to hers. They seemed so pure white now, in comparison to what he knew her real face looked like. "Please."

"You still haven't quite explained that."

"And you still haven't quite earned it."

"It's snowing," Chuck noted, hating how she could be so oblivious to his pain.

Or at least acted that way.

"So it would seem."

It was the way she said it that made Chuck conclude that must be how it was wherever they were. Everything was just a facade, when there was something far more sinister occurring. And for the first time in his life, that truly worried Chuck.

"We need to talk," Chuck said, finally relieved that her potential suitors seemed to be dispersing.

"I thought you preferred to talk after," Blair mocked.

"What happened before-"

"This topic continues to bore me," Blair drawled, looking at the bottom of her glass.

"You think I'm the one with no morality?" Chuck asked. "Look at you. There is something real between us and just look at you. At least I feel something about it. You are just a stone-cold bitch."

"If only you had this revelation when it counted," Blair sighed. "Don't confuse me with someone who has a conscience. I'm not a girl who cries over her high-school sweetheart cheating with her best friend. I'm not some insecure daughter stressing about her over-bearing mother. We had sex. And you felt something. But I don't."

It shouldn't have shocked him. He felt a sort of familiarity to allusions she was making, but the shock was more. Because she was right. He didn't understand how he could feel something so strong for someone he barely knew. He should have seen this coming.

It was torture that he didn't.

"Have the courtesy to conceal your emotion until I leave," Blair said, turning her back on him. "I really don't have the stomach for it."

Retrospectively, he was sure that was what did it. What caused the blurred vision and bile at the back of his throat. But all he truly recalled were scorching red eyes and scorching alcohol, scalding the back of his throat.

_You deserve to be alone._

_Looks like you're having the time of your life._

_Judge away. Shame turns me on._

And that was all he felt.

Shame.

He didn't want to understand, but all he felt was an undeniable sense of self-loathing.

And then everything came up.

Doubled over on the street corner, his insides spattered the pavement, the scent of wasted scotch radiating in waves up at him. But along with that, he also felt confusion. This wasn't him. He couldn't remember the last time he had lost so much control.

But if he did, he was sure it would have something to do with two sides of a girl he couldn't understand.

"Looks like that self-proclaimed tolerance is just that," Blair said cruelly. "Self-proclaimed."

Chuck looked up to see her shifting daintily away from his mess and he cursed his bodily reactions when he was near her at all.

"Seems as though I was right," she continued. "And I always will be."

"Will you?" Chuck had to ask in disdain.

"I deserve better than the vile vermin with no tolerance."

He wanted to contradict her. She was as selfish as he was. But all he was forced to do was watch her walk away.

_Thank you. That's all I needed to hear._

He saw a red sports car, and felt an indescribable feeling of utter despair. But that was it. Because his muscles clenched again and he heaved violently onto the street.


	6. Hoarders and Wasters

**A/N:** I'm trying my best not to get out of schedule with this fic. I'm determined to have it finished before April 18th. Anyway. those of you who are confused, should be if you haven't read Dante's Inferno which you are all aware that this is based on. And for those who have read it, or are even aware of its existence, there are more twists to come.

**Summary**: He didn't understand how any of it was possible. How a beautiful woman actually loved him once. How she seemed to be the same person before him. But she wasn't.

**Disclaimer**: Thanks so much to **The Very Last Valkyrie **who calmed be down off the ledge about last chapter. Also, look at her awesome pics that she made for me.** http : / / s575 . photo bucket . com / albums / ss 200 / jasper in my room / ? action = view & current = Circle 4 . jpg** just remove the spaces. As usual, nothing belongs to me. Just the urge to make Chuck and Blair do what I want. Thanks also to the awesome **comewhatmay.x** who betas like no other.

* * *

_The voice of each clamors its own excess when lust meets lust at the two points of the circle where opposite guilts meet in their wretchedness._

_-The Inferno_

The rancid smell of his own vomit was still strong in his nostrils, and it was only when he felt pressure on his shoulder blade that he realized he was face down.

"Just get up."

The voice was familiar, but lying in his own swill, he didn't really have the energy to recognize it.

"You're being pathetic."

The pressure lessened from his shoulder just in time for him to realize it was a foot. He was rolled onto his back, and he glared up into the eyes of Carter Baizen.

"Come on, Bass. I don't have all day."

"Who are you?" Chuck asked, his voice raw.

"Just a shadow of someone you used to know," Carter answered. "Now get up."

"And for what purpose would that be?"

"We have a party to attend," Carter answered. "And we won't be attending with you smelling like the gutter."

"Why are you helping me?" Chuck asked, begrudgingly getting to his feet.

"I'm not," Carter said. "I'm destroying you. You should understand that by now."

"I should."

"Be ready in half an hour," Carter said, nodding to the suit on the bed. "The Dame doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Chuck looked over to see a suit of red on a bed across the room, and he wondered if it even belonged to him.

"The Dame?"

But he didn't really have to ask who that was. Instead he walked over, picking up a mask in the likeness of a devil.

"It's a masquerade," Carter said.

Chuck held the mask before him, knowin exactly what his true face looked like.

.

She glittered condescendingly, and it figured that Carter would be on the side of the She-Devil herself. And yet he was the one decked in red while she was the Dame of Fortune.

He felt her eyes on him. But as soon as he turned, her eyes were averted, and he hated the hypocrisy. He hated how she abhorred him for his sinful tendencies when she was the epitome. He hated her. He just didn't understand what that meant.

Watching her with her opera gloves trimmed with feathers, hand clasped around a handheld silver filigree mask, Chuck knew what the problem was. He knew this harpy in her short lace overlay dress and train and her lace tights. This harpy was his match. He had always known, but she was so volatile and so manipulative, he couldn't help but fall for it. She used his own strengths against him and he didn't care how glorious she looked. He didn't care how perfect she was. He was going to punish her for tormenting him.

At least, that was the plan.

Because he knew how much trouble he was in as he watched her striding towards him, her long silk train trailing behind her. The ornate silver crystal encrusted tiara glittered on her head like the queen she was, and he knew how efficiently she could end him.

"Bass."

"Waldorf."

Her eyes were pure. She was speaking to him so fondly that Chuck had to wonder if he was truly free or not.

But the confusion in his mind was still so prominent that there was only one tragic answer to that question.

"You came."

Her voice wasn't as smug as usual, and he knew that she didn't have to be the only one in control.

"You didn't exactly give me a choice," Chuck drawled, draining the glass of whatever alcohol was strong enough that night.

"You always have a choice, Chuck," Blair said softly. He suddenly had the distinct feeling that she wasn't talking about the thinly veiled metaphors he had always assumed she spoke in.

But she never had been.

She lowered her mask slowly, and Chuck had to wonder how they had suddenly found themselves in such a secluded room. No people. No scorching red eyes. No judgment.

"You aren't the only one who makes mistakes," Blair said genuinely. Chuck commanded himself not to fall into this trap. Because he knew it was one. It had to be. There was no other explanation. "Can you ever find some way to forgive me?"

That was when he was lost. There was no logic. There was no time. There was no understanding.

As though there ever had been.

"Can you forgive me?" Blair asked again, stepping forward so he could feel her skirt brush over his trousers.

"I'll have to mull it over," Chuck said monotonously, knowing that despite the control he yearned to have, he would always be a slave to the whims of this woman.

"Is there anything I can do to make up your mind?"

"Blair-"

He never had any control.

"I want to see your face."

"What?"

Sure enough, Blair's handheld mask had been easily discarded as Chuck found his back against the wall.

"Please."

She batted her eyelashes prettily and he felt himself sinking further and further into oblivion.

"What are you doing?" Chuck asked coldly, wanting to be strong for himself, hating how he was resorted to such weakness because of one woman.

"I want to see your real face," Blair answered, tracing the sculpted curves of his mask. He wanted to refuse her. But he found in the moment for that to be impossible.

Blair's fingers wound through the hair at the back of his head, finding the strap that held him together, and letting it fall away.

And the rest of his self-restraint.

It was no longer his back against the wall, but hers. Their feet cracked and broke the masks on the floor as he felt himself gripping at any piece of lace he could find. He kissed fiercely down her neck, and for the first time, he felt her actually respond. Her fingers found her way to his hair again and he growled as she tightened her grip passionately.

But then it was all over.

"I'm sorry," Blair said, pushing him away casually, "but I can't."

At first, he didn't believe her. This couldn't be the reality. She was so sweet and remorseful to him. But at that very thought, he knew that it was happening.

"You planned this," Chuck said darkly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blair said primly, with so much dignity, Chuck didn't understand how it was possible. "You are impossible. You have an insatiable greed for anything attractive, and you just throw it away at the first sign of difficulty."

"I know I must have made some mistakes-"

"But until you admit what they are," Blair said, "my hands are tied."

"Does that make it easier?" Chuck asked. "To pretend like you don't have a choice?"

Blair smiled. "There is just so much that you still don't know."

"I don't know anything."

"Yes," Blair said, sidestepping him, "you do."

In any case, she was correct. Of course he remembered. He saw those images. But he didn't understand how any of it was possible. How a beautiful woman actually loved him once. How she seemed to be the same person before him.

But she wasn't. This woman was twisted and perverted, and yet, this obsession of her controlled him so malevolently. He knew that once, he had been happy.

But that didn't make sense in any way. So he refused to believe it.

"Besides," Blair said, "I didn't come here with you anyways."

In shock and horror, Chuck watched Blair approach a man that had no resemblance to Carter Baizen, as he had first assumed. He watched Blair laugh lightly as masculine arms wrapped around her waist and the stranger revealed himself.

Chuck felt revulsion burn a pit in his stomach at the smug face of Daniel Humphrey.


	7. The Wrathful

**A/N:** This is my favorite chapter that I've written. It is definitely an acquired taste, so you either get it or you don't. For those of you who are worried about Dan, as it is true within the canon of the show-don't be. Dan is there for plot devices only, and that will be made clear well enough.

**Disclaimer**: Thanks so much to The Very Last Valkyrie. She has made some awesome pics, one of which has this quote on it that she composed herself. **http : / / s575 . photo bucket . com / albums / ss 200 / jasper in my room / ? action = view & current = Circle 5 . jpg** Just remove the spaces. And as always, thanks to comewhatmay.x my awesome beta. With extra awesome.

* * *

_Give a man a fish, and you can feed him for a day. Teach him how to hate and he'll never go hungry._

_-The Very Last Valkyrie_

There was a sickening crunch, and once again, Chuck felt blood fill the back of his mouth.

_Who are you anyway?_

_My name is Dan Humphrey, and that is my little sister._

Chuck felt his knuckles break open as they connected with flesh.

_My father is dead because of your father._

Pain wracked through him as he felt his ribs crack at the hands of a lesser mortal.

_Have you lost your mind? What are you doing?_

_You. Tell her._

And finally they were both panting, the sound of the Hudson River splashing violently against the shore in the night. The only source of light were the blazing buildings that never seemed to cease burning.

Another solid hit and Chuck found himself on his back, a bruise blooming beneath one eye, and what felt like a substantial crack in his ribs. Chuck turned on his side, spitting blood through his teeth. He looked up to see Dan Humphrey wiping his own blood from his knuckles.

"Just for Blair?" Chuck laughed, feeling a shot of pain travel through his bones. "I thought you didn't date her."

"I don't," Dan said. "And if you remember so distinctly, you'll recall that no one does."

"She's just using you."

"Like she's using you?" Dan asked, looking down on Chuck with disdain. "It's not Blair's job to use people."

"What is her job, then?" Chuck asked, grunting as he sat up from the dirt.

"To educate," Dan said succinctly.

"And yours?" Chuck asked. "What's your job?"

Dan sighed, crouching on the ground next to Chuck. And he knew. He knew looking at his assailant that all of this was planned. Red flooded Dan Humphrey's eyes and he knew it before the vermin said it.

"You have no friends down here, Chuck," Dan said. "You're here to be educated. And that's what I'm doing."

"Really?" Chuck asked. "Because it seems to me like you're attacking me."

"I'm finding just cause," Dan shrugged, getting to his feet. "Your heart is supposed to be broken. And it looks like it's about to be, once again."

Dan nodded up towards one of the smoking buildings. Chuck turned painfully around, noticing with gut-wrenching sadness how familiar it was.

His father's first building. And it was crumbling to the ground.

"Hasn't she made it clear to you yet?" Dan asked. "Why you're here?"

"To torture me," Chuck said, unable to tear his eyes to the destruction of his father's empire.

"No," Dan said. "To educate you. You have done things you need to be aware about."

"I know," Chuck snapped. "I know I did things to her. I know I hurt her. That doesn't make things any more clear."

"You don't know anything," Dan said sneeringly. "You don't know how your father held nothing but disdain for you. You don't know how all everyone wants to do is leave you. You don't know how pathetic you are."

It happened.

_Get off of her._

_You stupid kid._

It was just like before. Only once. Only to someone who deserved it. But Chuck wasn't on the ground anymore.

Chuck refused to be pathetic.

"You don't have it in you," Dan spat. "You need something in your heart to actually feel passion."

"I feel in ways you can't even comprehend."

"Maybe you used to," Dan answered. "But you gave up that privilege. And now you're just as empty as the rest of us. So watch me with her, knowing that there isn't anything you can do about it. Because tonight, when we're in the dark together, she won't give a second thought about you."

_Get off of her._

_You stupid kid._

His knuckles were searing with pain, but as Chuck continued to use Dan Humphrey's face to break open his own flesh, he couldn't help but feel satisfaction.

"He's not wrong."

At her voice, he stopped in an instant. He was kneeling in the ground, spattered in the blood of someone who wasn't even worth it.

He stopped.

Because she was looking at him again.

"You're pathetic."

Chuck hated that word. He slowly rose to his feet, pushing away Dan's mangled face. He found himself eye-level with her, taking in her appearance for the first time. He couldn't help but look at her like that. How even her dress was oozing the color of darkened blood. Her cinched waist with its abstractly cut bow and draped neckline were just there to taunt him. How it fit so snugly against her and he knew, without a doubt—.

"I've never hated anyone more."

"Now you're getting it," she smiled.

"Don't mock this," Chuck snapped. "Don't act like you are superior to me."

"I _am_ superior," Blair emphasized cruelly. "Because I know why I'm here. I admit what I've done."

"And what have you done?" Chuck asked.

"I've driven a proud man to his knees," Blair smiled. "And he will never be the same."

"This isn't how this is supposed to go," Chuck said, backing away.

"How is it supposed to go, Charles?" Blair asked, tauntingly stepping forward. "Are we supposed to be in love? Are we supposed to hurl insults at each other but really want to rip each other's clothes off? Are you supposed to make love to me on top of a piano?"

_So it's settled then._

_We're settled._

But she suddenly switched her mocking tone for a furious one instead.

"You destroyed the only thing you've ever loved and now you have to pay for the consequences," Blair snapped wretchedly. "You will spend the rest of your days suffering because you couldn't love her enough."

"Shut up," Chuck warned.

"You were never enough for her," Blair said. "You kept tearing her apart because you were _bored_."

"Stop _talking_," Chuck said desperately, hating to hear the words.

"Listen to me," Blair said, grabbing his shoulders. "You used her and played with her just because you could. You never loved her."

"_That's not true!_" Chuck yelled in a violent outburst.

His fingers wrapped around her arms, digging into her shoulders, slamming her onto the ground with more fury than he ever thought he could possess. The back of her skull hit with a sickening crack on the pavement as Chuck just straddled her, breathing harshly.

It was hot, fluid, and red and only when Chuck pulled his hands away did he collapse next to her. His hands were hot and sticky as they dripped with her essence. Blood and brain matter flowed from the back of her head, her unseeing eyes staring up at him.

Unseeing eyes turning the color of her dress.


	8. The Heretics

**A/N**: This chapter definitely isn't as long as I originally thought it was going to be. But last chapter was a turning point, and now things are definitely going to be revealed.

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine. Quote was crafted by amazingly talented **The Very Last Valkyrie** who also has amazing promo pics to go with it. **http : / / s 575 . photo bucket . com / albums / ss 200 / jasper in my room / ? action = view & current = Circle 6 . jpg**. Just remove the spaces. A huge, HUGE, HUMONGOUS thank you to my beta **comewhatmay.x** who I am now ligitimately in love with. She beta-ed when she had no time and was doing other fun things. I am a horrible buzzkill and she should be worshiped.

* * *

_For surely all heretics belong in Hell, in The Inferno; yet name love as heresy and all will worship at its false prophesy_

_-The Very Last Valkyrie_

Chuck rubbed his hands viciously beneath the faucet. His flesh was scalded pink, but it was the flakes of dried blood that seemed seared into his skin. He felt emotion welling up behind his eyes, but he bit it back.

He looked into his own reflection to see his suit stained with two different blood types, his eyes dark and shallow with death. He wiped the terrified sweat from his brow with his wrist, though he knew that it didn't matter if he got blood on his face.

He was already drowning in it.

_Three one syllable words that under the circumstances you may or may not have meant._

_Do you want me to have meant them?_

He was wearing red. He was always wearing red when she arrived to housewarmings and birthdays and masquerades.

_If they were true, I would want to know._

Now it was the red from inside of her that he was looking at. The gore that dripped from him in a violent burst of anger. Because she had deserved it. Because in the moment, she had hurt him. And he just had to hurt her back. That was the way they always had been. From the very beginning.

He remembered.

And he _remembered_.

Any faith that he ever had in the world was because of her, and now she was rotting in the street where he had left her. That was what his eyes told him. She looked like his Blair, so she must be his Blair.

But there was that one detail that made him doubt himself. The way her eyes flashed red when his love's eyes were only the pure dark color of his own.

_I meant it, Blair._

His rational thought was telling him something else. She looked like Blair and spoke like Blair—deceiving and cold towards him. But there was something missing.

He just wished he knew what it was.

_With all my heart._

She had looked beautiful that night. The night that he remembered. That night where he poured his heart out to her, only for her to leave him—even if it was for herself.

But it didn't matter. Because Blair's dead eyes stared up at him as she was surrounded by a pool of her own blood, and he knew she wasn't there anymore. Whether there was something missing or not, she was gone.

"Dear nephew, why so despairing?"

_You stupid kid._

An invulnerable fire lit his insides aflame as he turned to face the only man whose voice that could belong to.

And his heart fell into his stomach.

"He's right, Bass," she said mockingly. "Who died?"

Chuck stared at the two who were—at that very moment—his arch nemeses.

Jack Bass. And on his arm—Blair Waldorf.

Her dress was different.

He hated it.

It still had the fiery red quality that her eyes seemed to burn with. But it was short, and this was emphasized by her proximity to his uncle. Red silk trimmed in black lace and Chuck wanted to wretch again.

"And you actually look surprised," she laughed coldly.

"That you're my uncle's concubine or that you're still alive?"

"Let's not get nasty," Jack interjected. "We're at a party."

"Since when are you afraid of depravity at a party?" Chuck snapped.

"Enough, boys," Blair sighed. She sent a meaningful glance in Jack's direction.

"Of course, Gorgeous," he said loyally, before placing a kiss on her knuckles, his cold eyes never leaving hers. Jack faded away, and all that was left was Chuck and Blair.

"Did you really think you'd get away with it?" Blair advanced. "All I ever did was love you."

"That wasn't you," Chuck said slowly.

"Wasn't it?" Blair asked. "You wrathfully and purposefully slammed my head against concrete until my brains slid out of my ears."

_I thought you didn't love me anymore._

"I didn't care if I lived or died," Chuck stated, and for a moment, it seemed as if he were in a hospital.

But he was just in this hellish place.

"Oh, Charles," Blair said, approaching him steadily. "You're already dead."

"Then so are you," Chuck bit out.

"You're confused," Blair answered.

"No," Chuck said. "For the first time, I know exactly what is happening."

"If that were true," Blair said, "then you wouldn't be bothering with me anymore."

"I like to pretend."

"You like to be in denial."

And he knew this was true as he was forced to watch her walk away. Jack wound his slimy arm around her shoulders, and there was no comparison. He had felt this pain before.

_You call that comfort? Sounds more like collusion._

And this time, he knew exactly why. But the scalding way Blair looked at him couldn't deter him. It never could. Not until there was another flash of red and he was thrown into confusion again. She was a breathtaking fury, simply because that was exactly what he felt.

Fury. And much despair.

"Looks like Medusa got her withering glare back."

Chuck knew that voice, and yet again, he felt himself turning towards someone he felt was familiar to him.

It still didn't prepare him for the horror this place always thrust upon him.

Chuck flexed his knuckles, still sore from burying them into Dan Humphrey's face.

Dan looked worse for wear.

The side of his face that Chuck had maliciously destroyed had not healed. In fact, it had reversed. It was wrought with death and decay, Dan's eye practically hanging out of its socket.

"You're going to start seeing people for who they really are," Dan said.

Chuck was surprised he could even speak with half of his teeth missing.

"You shouldn't look at me with such disdain," Dan advised. "Soon you're going to see Blair for who she really is too."

"It's not her."

"You only say that because she's dallying with your uncle."

"And I should have realized it when she was dallying with you," Chuck snapped and Dan grinned disconcertingly.

"So why don't you destroy his face too?" Dan asked.

"Because there isn't a point anymore," Chuck said. "Blair Waldorf saved me from myself. But she's not there anymore."

"So what now?"

"Without my salvation, I would rather reside in hell."


	9. The Violent

**A/N**: I might have mentioned that the last chapter was the climax, but this is climactic when it come's to Chuck's character. I loved writing the last scene, so I hope you like it too.

**Summary**: "It won't help you get back to her," she said. "You're still stuck down here with me. Accomplishing what you failed to do in another life won't save you. You'll still be trapped. You'll still be tortured."

**Disclaimer**: Nothing belongs to me. Inspired by Dante's Inferno and beta-ed by my favorite person **comewhatmay.x**. Don't forget **The Very Last Valkyrie**'s promo pics. Just remove the spaces. **http : / / s575 . photo bucket . com / albums / s s 200 / jasper in my room / ? action = view & current = Circle 7. jpg**.

* * *

_All Hell was shaken so that I thought the universe felt love and all its elements moved towards harmony, whereby the world of matter, as some believe, has often plunged to chaos._

_-The Inferno_

"Without my salvation, I would rather reside in hell."

It was the last thing that he remembered. He remembered looking at Blair Waldorf with Jack Bass as an accessory, knowing finally for the first time, what she really was.

"So that's why you're down here."

Since he had arrived, Chuck had heard nothing but "down here" and other references to where he now knew he undoubtedly was. And watching as he faced off with a rotting Dan Humphrey, he could use it for his own devices.

"You didn't really think that you'd get away with it," Dan said, "did you?"

Chuck rubbed his knuckle across his lower lip, feeling the sting and the stain of blood across his hand.

"You provoked me," Chuck reasoned.

Dan laughed and the sound was horrific and disconcerting.

"This?" Dan asked, motioning to the way his body was decaying. "Everyone looks like this. This is just the first time you've allowed yourself to see it."

"But this isn't the first time you've accosted me," Chuck reminded him.

"Now I have a reason."

And it all made sense.

"Because of her."

Chuck always had been the best. Always the best at exacting revenge, vendettas, retribution. It was always the same to him. But rarely did he have to use physical force to exact his revenge. It was only once, and it had been in an act of passion.

But standing in a place where sinners came to wither away, Chuck was surprised. He was surprised that even here, Dan Humphrey could never be as cunning and adversarial as a true nemesis of Chuck Bass would be.

Still, all Dan Humphrey had were his fists.

"You killed her," Dan said. "And you deserve to be punished."

"In case you haven't noticed," Chuck retorted, "that's exactly what I'm doing here."

"It's not enough."

"And you're just going to carry out her will," Chuck sneered. "Like the obedient little minion you are. I've seen minions of Blair Waldorf before. They're pathetic and jealous, and the only reason they follow is because that's the closest they are ever going to get to perfection."

"And yet you splattered her brains all over the pavement."

"I'm being punished," Chuck said. "Watching her die was the worst that could ever happen to me."

"You could have fooled me."

It was the last thing he said before a sickening crunch echoed through the air. Blood spurted from Chuck's nose, and he had to wonder how he had, once again, become involved in yet another altercation with Dan Humphrey.

And he remembered his revelation as Dan continued to kick his face in. He was sure that his teeth were splintering in his mouth, and his face would forever be ruined, but he couldn't help but think.

Pain reverberated through his body, and all he could think of was that Dan Humphrey was right.

Chuck didn't really feel remorse for killing Blair.

She was already dead.

.

Chuck didn't know what it was about them, but there was a certain allure to rooftops—this one in particular.

_Don't you understand? I'll always be here._

Chuck closed his eyes, letting his vivd memory of her assault him..

_I don't want you going anywhere. I couldn't bear it._

And he hated her for it. She taunted him with her faded memory and all he could do was teeter on the edge of _Victrola_ with a bottle of Jack because he knew she wasn't coming.

And she never would again.

No one was going to stop him this time. He was truly alone. No father. No love. Not even a vindictive uncle trying to steal his birthright away from him.

There was nothing left.

"It won't matter."

_Fortunately all I know was what he didn't want. Which was me._

Chuck felt his feet slide forward dangerously. But he turned angrily to see her smug expression, and he remembered that kind of rage—rage fueled by rage itself. And he didn't wonder why her head had cracked open so easily.

"Come to save me?" Chuck mocked.

"Hardly."

"No," Chuck remarked. "I don't suppose you would."

"Not this time."

And Chuck's feet hit the solid ground of the roof. Because he hated her for pretending.

"You're not her."

"No," she laughed coldly. "I'm really not."

"You wear her face," Chuck said. "You use her voice, you look at me with her eyes, but you're not her."

"Does it really matter?" she asked.

"You persecuted me because I was the one pretending," Chuck said. "But you're the one in the wrong. You're not her. And you never will be. You can't."

"You just wish that she could never feel animosity towards you," she said. "But you're wrong."

"No," Chuck answered calmly. "It's you. Blair could hate me with such fire in her soul that she would make the house fall down around us. But you're not like that. You're cold."

"Blair is cold."

"On the outside, maybe," Chuck answered. "But she had a fire below that she never let anyone see. Anyone but me. And you can't replicate that."

Her dark eyes faded slightly, and he didn't understand it. He felt like he was beating her, but he knew there could be no winning in a place like this.

"You're just a shade," he said. "You can never encompass all of her complexities. You can never predict or masquerade her. She was too complicated, too real. You're just a mask. And you'll never live up to the real thing."

"You think that matters at all?" she asked. "The same weak thoughts are still going through your head. You're still on the precipice of a roof, and you still want to take the easy way out."

"You can't torture me anymore," Chuck said. "You're just not her."

"So you say," she answered. "But you're still willing to throw yourself over for it. And believe me when I say it won't help."

"Why should I believe anything you say?"

"It won't help you get back to her," she said. "You're still stuck down here with me. Accomplishing what you failed to do in another life won't save you. You'll still be trapped. You'll still be tortured."

"You can't hurt me."

"Have you seen your face lately?"

Chuck knew he was cracked and bleeding but it didn't matter anymore.

None of it did.

"You've just got everyone wrapped around your finger," Chuck said stonily.

"Don't you care?" she asked. "How your precious face was mauled?"

"Maybe if you were her," Chuck said. "But you're not."

"You're so selfless," she said sarcastically. "As though all you ever cared about was her."

"I might have cared about other things," Chuck said, "but she always came first."

"Are you sure about that?" she asked. "Because to my recollection, there was one vital thing that you placed above her."

Chuck felt his heart constrict, and it was looking at her dress that he felt nothing but remorse. The pale gold of the floor length dress glittered condescendingly at him as his own warm blood continued to ooze down his face.

"I never said that I didn't regret it," he said. "You are unforgiving. That's why you'll never be her."

"I don't want to be," she answered. "All I want is your eternal suffering."

That was all she ever had.


	10. The Fraudulent

**A/N**: GAHHH SO BEHIND. This is bad. I would have posted last night but FF was being horrible. So things are definitely reaching a head. Only one more chapter will Chuck reside in hell, so I hope you guys have enjoyed the ride.

**Summary**: The one thing I'm not sorry for is her. I may have hurt her and done unconscionable things to her, but I never once regretted loving her. I'm too weak without her. Loving Blair isn't a sin. And I won't apologize for it.

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine. Inspiration comes from Dante's Inferno. Thanks so much to **comewhatmay.x** and her awesome comments that help me so much. Here's the next promo pic from **The Very Last Valkyrie** and all her infinite amazingness. Just remove the spaces. **http : / / s 575 . photo bucket . com / albums / s s 200 / jasper in my room / ? action = view & current = Circle 8 . jpg**. OMG has anyone seen the new promo? I can't stop watching it. I have forgiven Chuck for everything, as misguided as that seems. But he's just so dark that I can't help myself. Suddenly this fic seems irrelevent. But I'll finish it anyway.

* * *

_Lies are the new lust, sex is the new certainty, fraud is the new friendship—why love anyone but yourself?_

_-The Very Last Valkyrie_

She knew how to play him. In that respect, he knew that this demon-woman was Blair. That coy smile, and the way she so casually twisted her hair into a knot just above the nape of her neck. He had been there and done that, and somehow, he had let her lead him off the roof. Despite the fact that he knew this thing could never come anywhere close to being the woman who would forever possess his heart, she was a good substitute. The best he would ever get.

"Do think I'm not truly repulsed by you?"

She cocked her head innocently as her silver flapper dress sparkled around her knees.

"Are you?" she asked in a sultry manner that used to please him. Now all he could see were eyes burning red. And he felt nothing but disgust. He watched as her fingers started sliding the strap of her dress down her shoulder and he had to take a step back. "That's not the impression I'm getting."

Chuck swallowed, unable to give a coherent answer.

"Besides," she said. "It isn't like you haven't done anything that's repulsed you before."

"That's true," Chuck answered. "Then again, Blair forgave me for that."

"Which instance were you referring to?" she asked. "Your uncle? Or your whore?"

He thought he could be strong, but hearing it in the voice of the only thing he ever loved—even if she was an impostor—cut him to the bone.

"Let me clarify." She laughed dishearteningly. "I realize that you've been with many in the past."

"I'm not going to justify anything," Chuck said. "Least of all to you."

"You think you can insult me?"

"No," he replied. "You have to have to a soul to be insulted. And as much as I wronged in the past, at least I have the ability to love. It took me a long time to realize that, but I know that now."

"If only she gave a damn now," she said. "Which, I would imagine, is how you ended up here. Now all you have is me."

"For what it's worth," Chuck said gruffly, "I don't care."

"I'm as close as you are going to get to having her," she replied.

"Except I feel nothing for you," Chuck said. "Blair and I are made the same."

"But she loved you," she answered. "And as much as you think so, you aren't capable of loving her back."

"I love her more than my own wretched existence," Chuck said threateningly. "And that isn't anything that you can ever understand."

"Like you said," she replied. "I'm not really a person anyways. But if you loved her so much, then why did you do what you did?"

"Because I'm selfish," Chuck replied simply. "She left me and without her, I am truly dead. So I had to forget her because I wanted to keep living. It was the only way I could survive."

"You're rationalizing."

"And you're fooling yourself," Chuck said coldly. "Do you really think this will still work? You cavorting around with men will get under my skin? It's futile. You're. Not. _Her_."

"But I am."

Due to the fact they had just had this conversation moments ago, her answer surprised him. Having just heard her admit to how she was an impostor, he didn't expect this.

Blair walked slowly towards him, her silver dress glimmering tauntingly in the lights so his eyes couldn't help but be attracted to her thighs.

"You're the fool," she said. "You can't separate reality from something else. That's why I'm her. She wasn't faultless. And you liked that about her. But in your eyes, you see the same thing. You see me as her. So I am."

"I am the first to admit that Blair had flaws," Chuck said. "But that's just the way she was. She wasn't evil. She was just tortured."

"Is that how you see me?" she asked. "Evil?"

"How else could I see you?" he asked. "Blair would relish in punishing me when I was mistaken. But she never lied to me."

"Don't take it so personally," she sneered. "That's just the way it is."

"You're right," Chuck answered. "Because everyone is evil here. That's my punishment. But don't pretend that you're the same as her. You can never be."

"You're right," she answered and Chuck narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "There aren't just lost souls down here being tortured."

"There's you," Chuck retorted.

"I'm a hypocrite," she answered. "Good on the outside but evil on the inside."

"I suppose you could say that," Chuck answered. "But not everyone is purely good or purely evil. Not even those with human souls. Everything isn't so black and white."

He had gotten used to her visage. As much as he despised the rotting corpse of Dan Humphrey, he knew he had been correct. Chuck now knew where he was. He knew that he wasn't surrounded by people, but monsters. And that knowledge led him to see the truth behind the masks that the demons wore.

She was no different. He hated her above all others because she refused to relinquish the mask of something he loved so deeply. More than his own salvation, as he had proved with his time down beneath. The only sign that she was any different was the perverted hue of her eyes.

But even as he stared into the crimson depths of her irises, he saw something else. For a moment, he thought they had turned from that bloodred to the deep mahogany that he was used to. But it was only for a moment, because she shook her head, took a step back, and it was gone.

"You're not the only one."

She looked up in confusion at his words, and he didn't feel so trapped.

"Blair wasn't the only one," he continued. "I was a hypocrite, too. I pretended to be someone else. I betrayed her because I was weak and it was just easier to have a different name and a different life when being Chuck Bass hurt so much without her. But I won't do it. Never again. I won't betray myself again. And I refuse to betray her."

"It doesn't do you much good now, though" she answered, "does it?"

Her smile was deceptive and just as the scarlet intensified in her eyes, he knew he had been betrayed again.

"Jack."

But the visage of his deceitful uncle didn't approach. He was just a shade.

_You saved my life when it didn't want to be saved._

That didn't mean the threat wasn't as dishearteningly real.

_I ran that place without complaint._

And with a simple look over her shoulder, Chuck cursed his naivety.

Once again.

_I've already had everything of Chuck's worth having._

"He's always wanted to take everything from me," Chuck said. "Even down here."

"But there really isn't a here," she answered. "Is there, Chuck?"

"Is that even him?" Chuck growled.

"No," she sighed. "Jack Bass is still above. But make no mistake, he will eventually find his way down here. Like you said, this place is meant for those with no love in their hearts."

"Then why am I down here?" Chuck demanded.

"Because you're worse," she answered shortly. "You have love in your heart. You just chose to ignore it."

"I didn't," Chuck protested shakily. "She..."

"You're going to blame this on her now?" she asked. "All you ever had to do was repent. And you never did."

"I did," Chuck protested again.

"Funnily enough," she said, "you aren't down here because of last year. You made penance for your sin against your girlfriend that you sold to your uncle. But it's just another thing on a long list of offenses."

"I thought she wouldn't care."

"And there you go rationalizing again," she said coldly. "It isn't enough."

"I won't let this deception go," Chuck warned.

"Deception?" she asked laughingly. "You know where you are. You know I am not who I appear to be. Yet you allow yourself to be swindled. But it still isn't anything you never did to her. You revel in her perfection, but you cut her up anyway."

"You're not wrong," Chuck said darkly. "She always saved me. She always pieced me back together. She was the only one who ever knew the real me. And as much as I pretended, she was the only thing that was never fake to me. The only thing that was real was me and her."

"You were with other women," she answered coldly, "yet you claim to love her _with all your heart_."

That hurt more than he would have allowed himself to feel in that present moment, and he knew it was on purpose.

"Everything you are is false."

It was quick, rapid fire, and he hadn't even realized he had done it. Her face snapped to the side and his hand burned from the contact of her flesh against his. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, but he couldn't feel remorse.

"Were you trying to convince me you're not a sinner?" she spat. Her cheek was turning red, but that didn't change anything. It didn't change the fact that she was keeping him from where he was meant to be.

It didn't change the fact that he could still see his uncle's piercing eyes over her shoulder. He was a Bass. He had that turmoil and evil running through his blood.

_You think you can squeeze me out?_

He didn't have the blue eyes, but he had the coldness in him.

_I worked for this, I earned this._

Chuck didn't know what it was. He didn't remember when he had turned so foul but the impostor's back was on the ground and he was ripping at her. He knew this was exactly what would have happened to Lily if he hadn't burst into that Ladies' Lounge at the opera that night.

Except, she didn't look afraid. She just looked up at him with wide eyes, and he felt a self-loathing from within him that he had never felt before. Chuck pushed her away, trying to stumble to his feet.

"I was with other women," Chuck admitted, collapsing across from her. "They may have loved me or appreciated me, but Blair was the one I loved without restraint."

"That much is clear," she retorted, righting her torn skirt. "Then again, this isn't the first time you've been accused of forcing yourself on someone."

"I am sorry for many things," Chuck said, "but the one thing I'm not sorry for is her. I may have hurt her and done unconscionable things to her, but I never once regretted loving her. I'm too weak without her. Loving Blair isn't a sin. And I won't apologize for it. But I am sorry for this."

Chuck finally pulled himself to his feet, backing away from her.

"And here I thought you would have accused me of being deserving," she replied.

"You're nothing," Chuck said. "Not even worth the effort."

"Of what?" she asked. "Being attacked?"

"Of feeling any emotion towards," Chuck answered, blue eyes still seeming to cut into him. "I won't turn into him. Either of them."

"They're your family," she said. "Maybe you belong down here."

"I belong with her," Chuck said.

He had never been more sure of anything before.

For the first time since he had been dropped in this place, there was no reply from her.


	11. The Treacherous

**A/N**: You know it's coming. Inferno is scheduled to end this week so here is the second to last chapter. Hope you like.

**Summary**: He knew where he was. He knew he was doomed. He knew that redemption didn't mean a goddamned thing if the one person that matter couldn't hear it.

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine. Inspired by Dante's Inferno, and characters from GG, which I abuse as I please (sorry, Dan-then again, not really.) I cannot thank my WONDROUS beta **comewhatmay.x** enough. She betas even when I procrastinating after promising I won't. She's the best and puts up with me and my random whims about Chair.

* * *

_If he was once as beautiful as now he is hideous, and still turned on his Maker, well may he be the source of every woe._

_-The Inferno_

It was the hopelessness. In the end, that was what Chuck knew would get to him. It wasn't the chill of sleet and the roads paved with ice. It wasn't her taunting eyes and the way she vowed to punish him for eternity. It wasn't even this place, infested with uncles, fathers and enemies.

Standing on the freezing street, Chuck knew it would be the hopelessness. The fact that he would see the face of his beloved, but know there was no soul underneath. The hopelessness of never seeing the love of his life again was too much to bear. He didn't know how to get back to her. He was sure that he never would.

He might as well be dead. Because that's where he was headed.

"All alone again."

Chuck didn't understand it. How a living corpse could follow him everywhere when he should be wasting away. He looked up to see the remains of Dan Humphrey, feeling a sense of surrender. Not because he was standing before him, but because it was clear that even the soul of evil would perish here.

"So are you," Chuck noticed, unable to stop his teeth from chattering.

"Do you know the type of people who belong here?" Dan asked. Chuck gave his answer in the form of a scowl. "The treacherous."

"Is that why you're here?"

"I'm here because I know what treachery is," Dan answered. "I know what treachery looks like. And right now, treachery is wearing your face."

"Maybe that statement would carry more weight if it was the first time I had heard it," Chuck advised, finding warmth in his heated words. "But I understand my place in all of this. And I've done my penance."

"Really?" Dan asked in disbelief. "You hurt me."

"Excuse me?"

"One of the worse crimes you can commit are crimes against your family," Dan said. "You and I are technically related."

"As much as it pains me to admit I never enacted retribution against Daniel Humphrey," Chuck said, "it's the truth. I only acted against you."

"What's the difference?"

"The difference is that Dan Humphrey's face isn't melting off right now," Chuck said. "It gives me a great sense of vindication to see it happening. But you are just an illusion."

"You still meant it," he pointed out.

"That was unavoidable."

"And why was that?"

"Because you were with her."

"I thought you said she was just a figment," he suggested.

"Not here," Chuck said. "Where I'm from. He thinks I don't see it, but I do. I see the way he looks at her."

"So you destroyed your own kin."

"He deserved it," Chuck said. "There has been more than one occasion that he has acted physically against me."

"How about Blair?" Dan asked. "Did she deserve it? Because you acted against her."

"It was a mistake."

"You claim to worship her, but you've just torn her apart."

"I'm paying for it," Chuck retorted.

"And my sister?" Dan asked. "She was a guest in your home and you took advantage of her."

"I can't defend what I did," Chuck said. "It happened. I wish it didn't."

"Only because it cost you something."

"It cost me the only thing I ever loved," Chuck snapped.

"And your father?" Dan asked. "Did you love him?"

"I didn't kill my father."

It came out before he could even stop it, and for the first time, Chuck realized the truth. His father had gotten in that car because of him. His father had been driving to meet his wife, who was threatening to leave him. All because of Chuck.

But Chuck hadn't been driving that car that smashed into his father. Chuck wasn't the wife that had caused him to turn around. No matter how much Chuck berated himself for it, Bart Bass' death was an accident. A cruel twist of fate—like so many others Chuck had experienced in his life.

But that was it.

"It wasn't my fault," Chuck said.

And it was the first time he ever believed it.

But when he looked back, he was alone. No more demonic visages attempting to punish him. He was simply alone on the street in front of an abandoned club, that, not so long ago, had been bursting with fire and energy.

Now, he was just alone.

All alone, walking through corridors and hallways that once had him on fire for a woman who wasn't even real. And he wasn't sure if he would see the one he truly needed ever again.

He knew where he was. He knew he was doomed. He knew that redemption didn't mean a goddamned thing if the one person that matter couldn't hear it.

His entire time spent in the depths of his damnation had convinced him that he was the soul being tortured. All there was around him were those who wished to do him harm. Those who weren't even human. It had never even occurred to him that there was something to be said for him existing here.

For eternity.

Mirrors had always intrigued him. It was how he could look at the flat surface of one, see his confident and smug appearance, but feel the insecurity and neurosis that he could never rid himself of.

He must truly be damned. Because as he stood before the only full-length mirror in sight, he saw himself.

He saw himself in the truest sense. Who he was in life and now, the strange limbo he had been cast down into. Looking at his own reflection, he truly did feel damned. Looking into his own eyes that should have been a light hue of golden brown, all he saw was blackness.

And red.

Swirling, churning red spreading through his eyes. He felt it overcome his body, and all of the anger, lust, desperation, and devastation wracked his body with incompressible pain.

He looked at himself, and saw the true demon. He had traveled all through hell, following the representation of the woman who was being avenged. He had traveled through this hell, but looking at himself, all he felt was disgust.

All he saw was true evil.

He didn't feel the pain.

He felt his fist flying in front of him, but all he felt was the reverberation of the mirror before it shattered. Shards of glass flew at his face, ripping at his clothes and marring his flesh. But he stood tall, because he truly couldn't feel anything anymore.

He didn't feel the pain, but he felt the wetness. Chuck looked down at his torso to see the largest shard of mirror protruding through his flesh. Embedded in his hip was an ugly piece of mirror, and Chuck felt exhausted.

It was only then that he saw it. Chuck raised his head and was forced to shield his eyes. Though he felt his blood being drained from him, he took a step forward. Behind the mirror had been a straight tunnel, and now, blinding light causing Chuck to squint.

But he couldn't look away.

He felt his eyes begin to burn with the painful beauty of it as he took a careful step forward.

And he stumbled into scalding serenity.


	12. Epilogue: The Way Out

**A/N**: Thank you all so much who have come on this journey with me. It was very stressful for me to finish this before the new episode came out, but I did it! I really hope that all of you appreciate how I ended this because when it comes to true love, there is no logic, just like this fic. I hope I have made the answers in this as clear and concise as I could and that you all have enjoyed this. This is my favorite chapter that I have written, because here is the apperance you have all been waiting for. For those of you who want to see **The Very Last Valkyrie**'s awesome art, just visit her photobucket and remove the spaces. **http : / / s 575 . photo bucket . com / albums / s s 200 / jasper in my room /**

**Summary**: It was the only thing that he could think of, his back on the ground, his face pointed towards the ceiling with his eyes clenched shut. His back arched in scalding pain, and it was the first time he had considered that something was very different.

**Disclaimer**: For the last time, this is inspired by Dante's Inferno and the epic, tumuluous, passionate and eternal love that is Chuck and Blair. but most of all, thank the amazing **comewhatmay.x** who even though she had no time whatsoever, she agreed to beta this little project for me. Love her eternally.

* * *

He was in pain.

It was the only thing that he could think of, his back on the ground, his face pointed towards the ceiling with his eyes clenched shut. His back arched in scalding pain, and it was the first time he had considered that something was very different.

Maybe something was finally right.

_"What's happening?"_

Even when something was obviously wrong. Without having to open his eyes through gritted teeth, he knew what was different. It had been so long since he had heard her voice so frantically desperate.

So loving.

Then again, it had been so long since he had heard her voice at all. Her real voice. The voice that didn't belong to that demonic entity wearing her face, but his true heart's desire.

He suddenly wanted to open his eyes.

_"What's happening?"_

The cry was even more shrieking this time, and he was starting to dwell on the fact that everything wasn't as fine as he had originally perceived.

_"Calm down."_

She wasn't alone. He recognized the voice instantly, though he was still unable to gain control of his motions.

_"Why are you telling me to calm down? Look at him."_

_"I am looking."_

She wasn't the only one who sounded frightened. But her voice was still the only one he cared about.

_"__**Do**__ something!"_

_"Shut up so I can actually try."_

_"**Do something, Nathaniel!**"_

Chuck was sure he had blacked out until he felt it. Without seeing anything, he knew that Nate's fist had come down hard on his chest, but all he could do was let out a feeble groan.

_"What's happening?"_

With that simple sentence, Chuck was able to open his eyes to slits, observing what was occurring.

He knew exactly where he was.

The doors of his room were flung open, a feminine figure crowded in it. She was huddled against the doorway, evidently afraid of even taking a step closer. Nate was crouched at his side, raising his fist over his head once more.

_"What's happening?"_

There were tears in her eyes, and fear in her throat, and as Nathaniel's fist came down to his chest once more, Chuck Bass blacked out.

.

Sirens.

Heat flooded beneath Chuck's eyelids, his chest sore, and his heart even sorer.

But she was near. He could tell. He could always tell when Blair Waldorf was in his proximity. That aura of entitlement around her, and that scent of pure temptation.

Even as he knew he was being tossed around in the back of a moving vehicle, he could still tell she was near.

Sirens.

Chuck knew exactly where he was.

_"...don't know...found him-"_

"_Miss_-"

His hand was as sore as his heart, but it was because of her grip, and he longed to squeeze back.

If only he had the ability to do so.

_"Do you know his name?"_

_"His name is Chuck Bass."_

He was Chuck Bass and he couldn't comprehend the ecstasy of hearing her say his name again.

And yet again, unconsciousness overcame him.

.

_"...just don't understand how this happened."_

His arm hurt. It was throbbing and pulsing, and Chuck hated hospitals enough to know that he was in one.

Even when her voice was so near.

_"We're still running extensive tests."_

_"Extensive tests?"_

Her voice was sneering and condescending and he just wished that she knew.

_"How can you not know what's wrong with him? Aren't you supposed to be a professional?"_

_"We're doing out best with the current circumstances, miss."_

_"Doing your best? He's slipping away."_

_"We had to heavily sedate him. He was running a fever."_

She was silent and he prayed that she hadn't gone away from him again.

_"If something happens to him..."_

But the warning in her voice was clear and he felt relief overcome him once again.

_"We apologize, but the only reason our tests haven't been conclusive is that he is exhibiting signs that don't make any sense."_

_"Well make sense of it."_

Chuck felt himself drift in and out of consciousness, highly aware of the needle in his arm, and the comfort in her voice.

_"Are you aware of any injuries Mr. Bass might have sustained?"_

_"Not recently."_

Chuck's hip began to burn.

_"The scar on his hip shows signs of inflammation. We've given him antibiotics to fight the infection."_

_"He was shot almost a year ago. How is that possible?"_

_"We're looking into it."_

_"There's not something...wrong...with it? Is there?"_

_"If his wound healed over relatively normally, there's no reason there should be a problem."_

_"Then why is there one?"_

Blackness settled over him like her comfortable night, and he was only able to sleep as her scent perfumed the air around him.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"You were entitled."

"No, I _wasn't_."

"He'd do anything for you, Blair. You know that."

"That was never the problem."

"He loves you so much."

"That was never the problem."

"Then why are you even here? You vowed never to forgive him."

"Because he promised he would never hurt me again. And he lied."

When Chuck opened his eyes, Nate was gone. But her last comment still rang in his ears discomfortingly. The bed dipped with her marginal weight and he could breathe again.

"Have you been lucid long?"

Chuck had to smile up at her. No one spoke the way Blair Waldorf spoke.

"I heard you."

Her brow furrowed and he knew his comment worried her.

"You kept me lucid."

"Isn't that something."

As promising as her words had been, he knew that they weren't out of the woods yet. She was still frowning and he knew that there was that rational part of her that was still hating him.

"You're going to be fine."

She was smiling at him, and he knew that look. That smile laced with pain, shielding the tears in her eyes from him. He wanted to reach forward. But his arm was still connected to that damned IV and he hated everything around him.

But she was looking at him. And it made him hate everything a little bit less awful.

"Chuck."

She looked worried and he wanted her closer to him.

"What happened?" In actuality, he was interested. He didn't know any of it. He didn't know how his reality had been mixed and muddled. He didn't know how much time had passed or what was expected of him here.

But it didn't matter. Even if she was crying, he would make her better. He would fix it all.

"They beat your infection," Blair said. "But it's still sort of a mystery."

"Why am I here?"

"Because I walked into your room to find you convulsing on the floor," Blair said bluntly.

"Why were you in my room?" Chuck asked cheekily.

But she wasn't having it.

"Nate told me you were going on another bender."

"Is that all that would get you by my side?" Chuck asked. "Another binge?"

"Well it always worked out that way when our roles were reversed."

It was an uncomfortable topic—for her especially. But she had the upper hand and they both knew it.

"But leave it to you to resort back to your smug ways when I thought you might have had a life altering experience."

He couldn't be sure if she was bluffing or not, his hand shooting out to capture her as she stood up, away from him.

"Is that the only reason you came?" Chuck asked. "To see me in my weakened state?"

"How can you be so selfish to think this is about you?"

"It isn't?" Chuck asked doubtfully, looking around at the various machines he was hooked up to.

"No," Blair snapped. "It isn't. This is about me. It's about the fact that I'm here because you almost died."

"I didn't," Chuck said, and he knew it was the truth. "It hurt like Hell, but I didn't. But I would have thought you would have enjoyed it."

He knew he was fishing for information he hoped was true, but he couldn't help himself. She was looking at him with love—the way that no other person on the planet, or even beneath it, could replicate.

"You think I would have enjoyed you breaking my heart again?" Blair asked.

And there was the answer he was searching for. The answer he had been searching for all along. Because he had always been repentant. He just didn't think that was what she wanted.

"You told me you would never do that again."

"And you told me that we were over for good," Chuck retorted.

"Is that why you did this?" Blair asked. "Because of me?"

"I didn't do anything," Chuck said.

"You almost drank yourself to an early grave."

"What's the point in living if you have nothing to live for?" Chuck asked coldly.

"Don't do that," Blair whispered.

"I did what you asked."

Her face betrayed confusion.

"I have been through _Hell_ for you," Chuck said. "Just like you asked."

"This wasn't what I wanted."

"Tell me what to do," Chuck said. "Just tell me what to do to fix it and I will."

She was looking at him sorrowfully and he hated it. He hated that it looked so much like pity mixed with condescension that he felt like he was losing her again.

"If I had known all you ever wanted was my regret," Chuck said, "then I would have given it."

"That's not all I wanted," Blair warned.

"I've given you my remorse," Chuck said. "I've done my penance for you. And I wasn't lying. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. If that's what it takes, I'll do it. I wasn't lying, Blair. I've been through Hell for you. And you are the only woman who will ever be able to say that."

Before she could even object, he raised the hem of his dressing gown, always slightly smug at the shock betrayed on her face, whether it be in a hospital or the first time in the back of his limo.

"That's not from Prague," Blair said. Chuck knew she had seen the real scar. The one that wasn't even an inch long. The one that she ran her fingers over tenderly on top of a piano and in many other undisclosed locations.

"It really isn't."

And again her fingers were hot and cold at the same time as she traced the scar with the tips of her fingers, and he restrained himself from reacting.

"Please believe me, Blair," Chuck said. "I have been through Hell for you."

"I believe you."

Her voice was soft and husky, and he knew that it had nothing to do with his scar. She dragged his gown back down and he knew she believed him from the moment he said it. She didn't need physical evidence. The proof was all in his eyes.

"And I'll go through an eternity of it," Chuck said, "as long as it's with you."

"I don't want to put you through Hell," Blair said.

"As long as I'm with you," Chuck said. "As long as I am really and truly with you."

"You're the only person I've ever been real with."

"The only thing that's ever been real is you and me."

"Chuck," Blair said softly, almost begrudgingly as she took a deep breath. "I wouldn't mind you spending the rest of your life making it up to me."

He wanted to lean forward. To lean into her and take comfort in her. But there was a warning in her eyes and he knew it wasn't the best course of action at this point.

"You promised you would try to not break my heart again," Blair said. "But you almost left again. And I didn't like it."

"Whatever it takes, Blair," Chuck said. "I'll do anything."

"Let's just lie here," Blair said, "for a while. I just want to lie with you."

"I want to lie with you too."

Her arms were soft and her scent was sweet, and even though he knew he would be restricted from her tomorrow and the next day, and in all possibility the day after that, he was going to spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

And she was going to let him.


End file.
